It Goes On
by Spark Writer
Summary: A truthful, tender story about life after the final battle.  Join our favorite wizards as they meet life head on.  All reviews are welcome!
1. Breaking Open

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter books.**

**Please Review!**

* * *

><p>Hermione stood beside Ron, eyeing the pitiful remains of Hogwarts castle. The piles of rubble, the spirals of smoke, the distant glitter of flames. The final battle was over, yet still ringing in her ears. And yet, along with the danger and sorrow, had come to Hermione a new experience...kissing Ron. If anyone had ever told her that she would be the one to make the bold first move, she would have replied scathingly. But it was deliciously true; she had indeed kissed him. She recalled his expression, one she would never forget. The way his eyes widened and his lips had parted just slightly at her approach. All Hermione knew in that moment, was that she might literally lose her life before she got the chance to show Ron her feelings for him.<p>

"Where's Harry?" Ron asked her, his voice lower than she remembered.

"He's talking to Ginny. Think she'll forgive him?"

Ron grinned. "Are you kidding? Those two have been waiting for this for ages."

"They're not the only ones," said Hermione succinctly.

Ron blushed. "Yeah, well..." he trailed off. "I think we should go find Harry. Merlin knows what he's doing now."

Hermione frowned and tugged him back. "Ron, I'm still angry about what you did at Christmas. Leaving me. And Harry," she added quickly.

Ron looked down at Hermione with a remorseful expression. "I know, if it were me who'd been left, I'd be dead angry, too."

Hermione gazed across the lake. "But passing over that, I honestly feel as though I'd die if anything happened to you."

Ron furrowed his brow. "You sure spent a lot of time glaring at me in the past few months."

Hermione laughed and rubbed her forehead. "I'm not as uptight as people think I am, but I am quite logical. It's difficult, Ron," she said, meeting his questioning gaze, "for me to put aside my rather detached, analytical side and show my emotional one. I can be quite affectionate, you know."

Ron looked at her disbelievingly. "I know you're affectionate, Hermione! You're not _that_ good at hiding your feelings, at least not from someone who's know you as long as I have."

Hermione nodded, relieved, and drew out her wand. "What're you doing?" demanded Ron.

"Ron, you're covered in cuts and bruises. Either I attempt to heal you, or you go to the hospital wing."

"Or what's left of it," Ron sniggered.

Hermione swallowed a laugh. "Shut it, Ronald."

Ron took a step nearer to Hermione and spoke. "No one else calls me that. I wish they did, though."

Hermione flushed, and placed her hand gently on Ron's well cut cheek. She realized she had never known him as well as she did now. All his evasiveness and anger had vanished, and he was simply Ron. And that was everything Hermione needed. Ron leaned his forehead against Hermione's, his flaming red hair tickling her face. Then Hermione pulled him to her.

It was earth-shattering to say the least. Hermione was stunned as an electric shock of recognition seared her body. As though some part of her had awoken to the fact that Ron _was it_. It wasn't a cheap, imagined feeling at all. No, this was a sort of magic Hermione had never attempted nor experienced. But like other magic, she exceptionally skilled at this kind, also. Ron was as tender a kisser with Hermione as he had been aggressive with Lavender. He held Hermione as though he would never let her go, and perhaps he wouldn't have, had Harry and Ginny not arrived. At their friends' presence, Ron pulled away from Hermione, his reluctance evident. Harry was grinning widely at Ron, and he winked at Hermione, who blushed and wished she hadn't.

"So this is what you get up to when Harry and I aren't here to keep things chaste," smirked Ginny.

It wasn't lost on Hermione that Ginny had used the phrase "Harry and I." Perhaps things had worked out for them. Hermione sincerely hoped so.

"Blimey," moaned Ron. "As though you two weren't doing the same!"

Harry smiled ambiguously. "Some things are best left unsaid."

Hermione beamed, and flung one arm around Harry, and the other (more tenderly) around Ron. "It's funny," she commented. "I keep looking around at the rubble and broken down bits of Hogwarts, and I suppose ,"she said lightly,"that when it broke down, I broke open."

It would be alright.

* * *

><p><strong>Awww, I love Hermione and Ron. Review?<strong>


	2. Memories

The great hall was packed with wizards, centaurs, giants, acromantulas, house elves, and numerous other creatures. Hermione allowed herself to drift along, rejoicing in those who were alive and well; hurting for those who would never hold a wand again. "Hey." Harry appeared at her side, his hair well-tousled from hundreds of ardent admirers.

Hermione raised her brow. "What is it?"

Harry sighed and gestured behind him. "It's Fred...we sort of...have to say our last goodbyes."

Hermione's eyes swelled with devastated tears. "God, it's hard," she said very quietly.

Harry did not contradict her. He plowed a path through the buzzing crowd, Hermione just behind him, and stopped along the back wall of the great hall, the only one that hadn't been blown to bits. Hermione glanced side-long at Ron, only to find him staring at her with a grateful expression. She moved toward the crush of Weasley's gathered around Fred's body, and knelt down. Between Mr. Weasley's left leg, and Bill's right arm, she could make out Fred's face. Her world tipped slightly, and Hermione found herself gripping the flagstone floor tightly, in danger of falling.

"Oh, Hermione, dear," sobbed Mrs. Weasley. "Thank god, you're alright."

And Mrs. Weasley swept Hermione into a tender embrace. "But, oh! Look at you," she cried, holding Hermione at arm's length and scrutinizing her. "You're just covered in bruises, poor dear. And Ron, too."

Hermione winced, just thinking about Ron's various injuries. Surprisingly, Harry was rather less damaged than the rest of them, once one omitted the fact that he'd been subjected to the killing curse. The throng of people parted at last, and Hermione rose unsteadily to her feet. She, Harry and Ron moved in close to Fred, and knelt down, their faces nearly touching. It was awful, there was simply no other word for it. Fred's shirt was dampened with tears, his freckles dull and transparent, and his wand poked uselessly from his jeans pocket. Someone groaned, and Hermione looked up, spotting George a few feet away. His back was turned to Fred; he had apparently found it unbearable to see his deceased brother.

Hermione swallowed, furiously blinking back tears. She stared at Fred a moment longer, then stood up so quickly she nearly went over backward. Bypassing a startled Mrs. Weasley, Ginny and Charlie, she flew from the congested hall, and into the empty stone entrance hall. Breathing like someone who had narrowly escaped drowning, she began the long, exhausting climb to—she didn't exactly know where. Her hands wouldn't stop trembling, and her legs threatened to buckle with each step. A few paintings that weren't torn to pieces, housed pale and frightened monks, wizards, and trolls and one had a picture of a great dragon, snorting fiercely at any spectators. In a state of semi-reality, Hermione drifted to the portrait of the Fat Lady, though the Fat Lady herself was gone.

Realizing she didn't know the password, Hermione tentatively pushed the painting, and it swung aside, revealing the Gryffindor common room as Hermione remembered it. More than a dozen over-stuffed armchairs, a lifeless fireplace, the familiar stone staircases that led to the dormitories above. The only detail that had changed, was the fact that one who side of the tower had been blown away, and Hermione was treated to a gorgeous (albeit shocking) view of the grounds, and lake. The light wind whistled mournfully, a perfect match to Hermione's mood. Phantom images of herself and her friends swirled around the room, laughing and smiling, people from a different time,a different universe. She clambered through the portrait hole, and stood beside the fireplace, dispassionate and still. Perhaps someday it wouldn't feel like this. But it was as if Hogwarts had died, and that was a fearsome thought. Hermione ran a hand over her bushy hair, turned, and made to leave. Being alone was difficult at times like this.

Leaving the common room, she made her way hastily back to the great hall, and stared, coming to a grinding halt. Several hundred more wizards had joined the already dizzying number of people, and were pouring in and out, a chattering mass. Hermione debated whether Ron and Harry might still be in the great hall, or if they had left. Deciding on the former, she dove into the fray, ducking toward the far wall. On her way over, Hermione spotted Neville and Luna, both sitting close together and grinning like fools. Intrigued, Hermione wondered if they didn't fancy each other. An odd pairing, she thought, but a good one. Hermione noticed that the room was utterly devoid of Slytherin's, save for Professor Slughorn, who was genially clapping various students on the back. She skirted a cluster of house elves, and nearly ran head-long into Ginny.

"There you are!" the redhead exclaimed. "Ron's losing it. He thinks something's happened to you, but I told him to shut it—in your honor, of course."

Hermione hugged Ginny. "Thanks, Gin.' I was on my way over there, anyway."

Ginny (who still bore traces of tears) tossed her hair over her shoulder. "I need some fresh air to clear my head. I'll be back." Then Ginny left, quickly vanishing in the mob. Hermione swung round, and continued to the back wall, only stopping to wave to Hagrid. When at last she reached Ron (slumped moodily on a long wooden bench) her shoulders were practically bruised from bumping into myriad wizards.

"Where the hell were you?" Ron sat up straight, his eyes narrowed. Hermione shrugged. "Walking."

"Bloody hell, Hermione! How was I supposed to know you were okay?"

Hermione sat down beside him. "I'm perfectly capable of protecting myself," she informed Ron, " and I didn't see you looking for me."

Ron stared at her for a moment, obviously attempting to think of an impressive retort, but finding none, he leaned back and stared up at the patchy ceiling. Hermione smiled to herself, relishing Ron's transparency.

"Did they take him?" she asked after a quiet moment.

"Yeah."

"Is everyone surviving?"

"As well as they can, I suppose."

Hermione glanced at the empty spot on the stone floor that Fred had just vacated, and squeezed her eyes close, tears threatening to spill over.

"Hey, don't cry, please don't cry!" Ron was on his feet in an instant, providing Hermione with a well-worn handkerchief, and crouching down to peer into her eyes. "It'll be okay, Hermione. I know you know that."

Hermione sniffed heartily, and gently returned Ron's handkerchief. "Thank you," she said thickly. "I'm being an idiot."

"No, you're not."

Hermione gave Ron an uncharacteristically mischievous look. "Don't argue with me, it's frighteningly attractive right now."

Ron arched his eyebrows, and couldn't resist a smile. "Alright, come on." He pulled Hermione to her feet.

"What, we need to go everywhere together?"

Ron merely pouted, and that was enough. Hermione giggled and marshaled her thoughts.

"Harry?"

"Harry."

They left, in search of a certain bespectacled boy.


End file.
